


Are you listening?

by cookie_cookie_cookie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Charlie Bradbury is a Little Shit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Girls Kissing, Love at First Sight, Love at First Song, Meet-Cute, Panic Attacks, Short One Shot, Singing, brief mention of death, singer original character, singers - Freeform, so is dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cookie_cookie_cookie/pseuds/cookie_cookie_cookie
Summary: Broke college student, Jo Harvelle, reluctantly sneaks into an exclusive restaurant with her mischievous friends, only to fall in love with a beautiful singer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Original Female Character(s), Lisa Braeden & Meg Masters, past dean winchester/jo harvelle
Kudos: 6





	Are you listening?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "The Great Divide" by Emmy Rossum

Come on, pleeeeaaaaassssseeee?”

“No!” Jo told Charlie for the seventh time. The redhead stood in front of her door, pouting and giving Jo Sam's trademark puppy eyes that she had mastered over the years. Jo glared at her. Charlie had barged into Jo’s apartment like she owned the place, wearing another one of her nerdy fangirl shirts and brandishing a stack of fake IDs. Between exams, projects and a double-shift at the Roadhouse, the last thing Jo wanted was to eat at some pretentious ass restaurant with an equally pretentious ass name: _Tails de Crevettes._

It was one of those places that required you to have a $200 membership. From what Jo understood, Charlie had pulled another one of her Mr. Robot tricks to add their friends—Lisa, Dean, Sam, Gabriel, Meg and Castiel—onto the restaurants’ database using fake names.

Jo had come home after a ten-hour shift, feet sweaty and cramping in her boots and her legs stiff as a ply of wood. As she took the Uber home, all she could think about was curling up under her plush white comforter and binge-watching _The Haunting on House Hill_ with nothing but a bottle of Jack and a tub of Rocky Road to keep her company.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and huffed.

"Charlie, come on. I had a long ass week, I still got two other tests to study for—"

"Okay, dude," she cut in, holding her hand up, "seriously, you work way too much. Ease up a bit. Like, Jesus, you're worse than Cas, and you know how he is."

Jo folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the back of her cheap and musty couch, pulling her lips between her teeth.

"Why do you even wanna go to this place anyway?"

Charlie rambled on about how good she heard the food was and how they were holding an event with all these hot performers tonight—in particular, Miss Dorothy Baum. Jo watched as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket and waved it in the air with a smirk. Jo snatched it out of Charlie's hand and unfolded it as her friend continued to run her mouth. She stared at the flier in her hand and almost cringed at the design. It had a transparent starry night background, and it was bordered with bold dark red lines. 

[picture here](https://64.media.tumblr.com/2dda2cde6202136a63d843e14d860aa4/e74d2cea13e535b2-62/s500x750/5b963a117923e997e014a90e2bc6729932ac7fff.png)

The top of flier, printed in bold red letters against a neon yellow background, was:

**TAILS DE CREVETTES PRESENTS:**

**20 TH ANNIVERSARY GOLDEN PERFORMANCES**

Beneath the words, there were headshots arranged side-by-side, three in one row and two in the next. Their first and last names were printed in a white box beneath their photos. The people were fairly attractive though a tad plain-looking. Her eyes continued to skim down the page until they were caught on one image: a beautiful smiling woman with the most beautiful face she’d ever seen. Her dark hair was swept over her shoulder, big loose curls flowing over her clavicle and cradling the side of her face. Her large, rich brown eyes bore into hers like they were burrowing into her, bringing to light every little secret hidden in the dark corners of her mind. 

And then there was her smile. It wasn't flashy or sultry or saccharine; it was tender. Inviting. Contagious. A smile Jo would kill to keep on her face. Beneath her photo was printed:

**Elicia Moore**

_Maybe one night out won't be so bad_ , Jo thought. She hadn't been out on the square with her friends for a few months, anyway, between finals and all the drama between Sam and Meg that Jo held no interest in. It was high time she treated herself. She folded the paper back up and handed it to Charlie.

"Fine, just let me take a quick shower and change."

\----

As Jo suspected, the place was a little too highfalutin for her liking. In addition to being ridiculously expensive and "exclusive," the place actually had a fucking dress code. Once they’d reached a mall near the place, Lisa had ducked in to buy them fancy suits and dresses, paying for it with her Daddy's credit card.

The minute they stepped through that revolving glass door, Jo knew for a fact she was out of her league. Velvet carpets stretched before herm, covering a major portion of the white marble floors. Grand, carpeted stair steps led them into a vast foyer with a console table that held assortments of refreshments—coffee, tea, trays of fruits, cheese and cookies and flavored water dispensers with sliced cucumbers and strawberries floating at the bottom. The smell of perfume and alcohol and cleaning products assaulted Jo’s nose and tickled the back of her throat whenever she so much as took a breath. Hundreds of different voices overlapped each other, resonating in the walls and floors and drowning out the light and mellow tune playing through the overhead speakers. Up front there were booths where worn college-aged employees in matching dark jackets and brass name tags would check your ID to verify if you were on the list. Jo’s stomach roiled as a flurry of $1000-dollar-clad bodies and winking diamonds swarmed around her. She flinched when she felt someone's hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Dean looking down at her, concern coloring his eyes.

“You alright, hon?” Jo nodded weakly, grimacing. “Yeah, I’m okay.” He frowned at her for a minute, vivid green eyes flickering almost every plane and wrinkle on her face, before pulling away with a cautious nod.

"Well, okay, then."

He turned to his boyfriend, Cas, who brought him a plate of fruits and cheese to him. As Dean bitched at Cas about the fruits, Jo twirled the gold chain of her clasp around her fingers, running her thumb over the links.

Eventually, it was time for them to head into the dining area. Once they were checked in, the eight college students strode through thick double doors being held open by doorstops and into a room that was set up more like a banquet than it was a restaurant. A server stood at the entrance, handing out menus with a list of hard-to-pronounce dishes to choose from. Jo hoped they at least served cheeseburgers or something. As she received a few glances from the patrons, she felt a mass steel of dread sinking to the pit of her stomach.

They could see through her.

They knew she didn’t belong there.

Trying to pull herself out of head, she let her eyes wander over the tables scattered about the room, adorned with white satin tablecloth and Burgundy candles. The plates and silverware were set up in a Miss-Manners fashion. Servers with their vests and bowties circulated the room, balancing trays of hors d'oeuvres—like crab puffs and stuffed mushrooms—and drinks both alcoholic and non. A stage was set up at front of the room with a vintage microphone front and center. Off to the side, nearing the edge was a grand piano, its black sleek finishing gleaming under the bright lights. She also took note of a few music stands with tall wooden chairs lined up upstage. Another mic stood left stage between the piano and the front mic. She could almost picture Diana Ross and the Supremes singing on stage, or some other Motown singing group. 

The students took an unoccupied table near the front center of the room. A hand attached to a metal pitcher suddenly appeared into view, making her wince. The tiny dark-skinned girl who looked like she was barely out of high school smiled politely at her as she poured iced water into one of the stemmed glasses.

All Jo could see around her were diamonds on five-figure-dollar jewelry catching in the light and almost blinding her, gelled hair, perfect makeup, and expensive clothing that made her almost afraid to touch them. The lights burned brightly above her. Voices rumbled into her ears until all she could hear was a deafening high-pitched whine. Cold and hot warred in her body, and her skin felt cool and wet and sticky. Before she could even fathom what was happening, Jo stumbled from her seat and barreled out of the room. She weaved and pushed through people, panic rising to her throat and tightening its fat and scaly body around it, until she reached the bathroom. Her legs quaked and almost buckled, and her vision started to black and blur at the edges. One of the stall doors swung wide open. She pushed her way in and collapsed to her knees before heaving into the toilet. Her body convulsed, and her teeth ground against one another. Tears blurred her eyes as she touched her forehead to the toilet seat, gasping out. She shivered as the cool air rolled over inches of exposed skin. She white-knuckled the edges of the seat.

She wanted to scream.

The dress felt too tight, too scratchy and too expensive. The satin brushing against the backs of her legs was overwhelming. Her nails bent backwards as she clenched her muscles tighter. The pain was something to focus on for a moment. The taste of bile clung to the back of her tongue. She coughed and hacked. 

She wanted to rip her dress off; it was too fucking expensive. She couldn't afford it; it had a four-figure price, even though it was on sale. The pearl necklace strangled her, and the studs felt like dumbbells hanging from her ears.

"Hey. Are you alright?" a rich and musical voice spoke. Jo weakly propped herself up on her elbows, head hung and muscles quivering. She reached out to flush the toilet and then sat back on her haunches.

“Yeah,” she answered weakly as she wiped drool off her chin with the back of her hand.

"Are you sure?"

She could almost feel someone crouching down behind her. A wave of sobs bubbled from Jo's throat and she curled into herself, burying her face in her hands.

"I can't do this, I can't fucking do this, I can't be here. I don't belong here..." The woman crawled over to her side and shushed her, rubbing her back soothingly. Jo buried her face into the woman's neck. She didn't know what it was that made her want to open up to the woman—to tell her her whole life story. All her deepest fears, all her insecurities.

Everything.

"Deep breaths, okay?" the woman whispered. "Deep breaths." Jo nodded then drew in a deep breath through her nostrils. She waited a beat before slowly drawing out. And repeat. As the subtle and floral aroma worked its way into her lungs, her muscles started to relax.

"Just focus on me, okay? Just focus on my voice. My touch." Jo nodded, forcing her mind to zero in on the warm shoulder against her wet cheek. She was too tired to worry about drooling over the woman's outfit. Thin smooth arms lightly tightened around her shoulders, elegant fingers combing through her hair, as loving as a mother's touch

"It's okay, honey. I'm here. Okay?"

Jo nodded.

"I'm here.”

Jo wanted to stay in her arms forever. She wanted to curl into the woman’s heat and fall asleep wrapped in her. The woman continued to whisper “you’re okay” over and over again, each reassurance a lullaby. Jo’s heart gradually steadied. She could get drunk off of the perfume. A smile spilled over her face like warm, velvety liquid. Eventually, the woman released her hold much to Jo’s dismay. Jo sat back and muttered a watery “thank you” as she dried her eyes.

Her phone vibrated.

"Um, I have to go, okay? You gonna be alright here?"

Jo closed her eyes and pulled air into her lungs, nodding weakly.

Before she could see her face, her guardian angel disappeared, leaving Jo on the floor surrounded by the ghost of soft floral perfume and the fleeting image of a sparkling white gown.

\---

"You alright?" Sam asked Jo with a frown when she took her seat between Charlie and Dean. She nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Got a little woozy."

"You sure? We can go home if you want," Charlie said softly, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. Jo shook her head.

"No, no. I'm good. Just needed some air, ‘s all."

She grabbed her glass of water and took a sip. Lisa told Jo she had already ordered a gourmet cheeseburger for her. As Charlie continued rubbing her back, all Jo could think about was the woman in the restroom. Her faceless savior. She surveyed the crowd as discreetly as possible, looking for a woman in a sparkling white gown, but her angel was nowhere in sight.

People were still getting settled into their seats, chattering away, as the lights started to dim. A single spotlight shone on the stage. Servers came around lighting the candles. Jo was reminded of that scene of Jessica Rabbit's performance in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, the movie that gave her her first orgasm. A man who appeared to be in his early forties approached the mic, wearing a powder blue suit with a silky black bow tie. His hair was caked with gel, making him look like a Frank-Sinatra-wanna-be. Jo clapped along with everyone else as the host smiled widely. 

"Good evening, everyone.” The cheering continued. “Wow! Quite a turnout we got tonight, huh?" Jo took another sip of his water as he made a speech about how he was happy to see everyone again. The speech was punctuated with dry anecdotes that earned a few awkward chuckles from the audience. A server had come up to refill her glass of water and set down a basket of breadsticks. 

"Jesus, its like something you'd see in one of those old timey on AMC or something, right?" Dean grumbled into her ear around a mouthful of food. Castiel swatted his arm and scowled at him. Dean rolled his eyes and picked off a crab puff from from his boyfriend's plate. Cas just rolled his eyes and shoved his plate towards Dean. As the host continued to talk, Jo glanced down at the menu again, trying to put out of her mind the strong arms around her and the heat of the woman's shoulder under her cheek. She tried to tamper down the flush spreading to her cheeks. 

But she couldn't fight that longing to see that face. To look into her eyes.

She pictured the face of that woman on the bottom of the flier.

 _Elicia Moore,_ her mind supplies.

It couldn't possibly be her, though. This Elicia Monroe was some hotshot singer performing here, and that woman happened to be a kind woman in an elegant evening gown.

"Please, welcome our first performer to the stage," the host announced, "Ms. Dorothy Baum." The crowd applauded as a pretty brunette with grayish eyes waved at the crowd, approaching the mic. The pianist—a stout black woman with a little fro—played a light and chirpy tune. Jo glanced over at Charlie, who was bobbing her head along and humming. Smitten too, of course. Dean and Cas were dancing in their seats, laughing and smiling at each other. Lisa and Meg were both staring at their phones, and Sam was humming along, drumming his fingers on the table. When the song ended, the host came up to announce another singer, Chuck Shurley. Then Billie Reaper sang a Billie Holiday song, of course. After her came Michael Milton. Lisa and Meg practically creamed their panties, as expected, as he sang "The Way You Look Tonight," throwing a few flirtatious winks their way. The girls giggled and sent little waves his way.

A couple dry performances and glasses of iced water later, and Jo was almost sleepy and wanted to go home. At least her friends were enjoying themselves. When their entrées arrived, Dean and Cas were next to her, feeding each other, being their usual gross selves. Lisa and Meg were taking pictures of their food for Instagram. Charlie offered Jo a sip of her wine, still raving about Dorothy Baum's performance. The host cleared his throat.

"And last but not least, a small-town beauty making her debut on this stage tonight...give it up for Miss Elicia Monroe!" Jo's heart leapt at the sound of the woman's name. The singer came onto the stage, smiling and blowing kisses. If Jo thought the picture was beautiful, the sight of her on stage, skin glowing under the starlight, each movement graceful, the woman herself was utter perfection.

Her sparkling white dress flowed around her long slender legs, one side slit to the thigh. It was sexy as hell.

Wait…

White dress!

But it couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be her. She couldn’t possibly be Jo’s guardian

Like it was in the photo, her hair was swept to the side and brushing against her cheeks. Jo took in the woman's arms, the satin white gloves that went up to her elbows.

The woman in the bathroom didn’t wear gloves.

Elicia looked a little nervous, the way she appeared to be trying to make herself look smaller, even though she stole all the air from the room. A background singer approached the left stage with a tall chair of her own and set up her own area. The microphone screeched as Elicia got too close. She stepped back and adjusted the mic.

"Sorry," she spoke in a small voice, "I'm a bit nervous." She smiled tightly. The wings of her heart fluttered at the sound of the familiar voice. Her cheeks became numb from the smile that had across her face the minute her gaze landed on the singer’s face. She could feel her body hum and a blush spreading to her cheeks. Elicia cleared her throat and allowed her eyes to slip shut as the pianist played the opening cords.

_Reach across the great divide_

_See the war behind your eyes_

Jo’s breath hitched as the angelic voice reached her ears, the melody resonating in her core. Yearning bled through every lyric like ink through paper. Large teary eyes glinted under the spotlight. Jo found herself wanting to chase Elicia as she sank into her song. Sadness contorted her face, coloring her eyes as her lips molded around the words. Jo wanted to reach out and caress her face.

_Are you listening?_

_Are you listening?_

The high note rang throughout the room, powerful, unwavering.

_Are you listening_

Her skin glowed as she was bathed in white light. Jo’s gaze flickered to the gloved fingers curling around the neck of the microphone. Oh, how she longed to take its place. To have those lips close to her own, those words whispered into her skin. Have those hands caressing her.

She closed her eyes softly, focusing on the smooth and melodious voice crying out for her.

Only for her.

_Don't look away_

How could Jo possibly look away? How could anyone look away? The woman on stage captivated everyone around her. It's like every ounce, every breath of energy, was being pulled towards her.

_I need you now_

_I need you now_

Elicia Monroe was an angel who had stepped out of heaven, calling out to the crowd, compelling them to her. Jo swore she could hear someone whispering words into her ear, but she barely noticed. Or cared. All Jo could hear, see, feel was her.

Elicia.

Reaching to her across the great divide. Those warm hands stretching out to touch her again.

_I need you now_

Elicia's eyes found hers, and Jo's breath hitched in her throat. Her heart pounded, like it was trying to burst out of her chest and soar towards her. Those eyes called to Jo’s mind the memory of strong arms swaddling her, fingers playing in her curls.

“Focus on my voice.” Those words echoed in her mind. She focused on the voice, that same voice that had pulled her out of a panic. Told her over and over again “you’re okay, you’re okay” now cried for her, pleading for her to listen. Begging her not to turn away. Telling her over and over again,

_I need you now_

_I need you now_

And Jo longed to be up there with her. To take that aching hollow in her heart away. Elicia’s eyes closed again, and Jo watched those lips parted and shaped itself around each syllable. Jo didn’t notice that at some point she had started to sing along under her breath.

Like she knew Elicia’s song and melody by heart. Those eyes fell upon her again, and she could feel an electric current surging through her veins. And she was alive. She was afloat. She felt the energy pulling her to her guardian angel.

Nothing else mattered.

Right now, they were two souls floating in space, itching to mold into one another.

Nothing mattered.

 _No one_ mattered.

Applause erupted around her, jolting her back to reality. The singer smiled and curtsied in one graceful and fluid motion.

"Thank you." She blew one last kiss to the crowd and looked back at Jo for a few seconds. Jo swore she could see a flicker of affection in her eye. Then Elicia looked back to the crowd, waving and striding off the stage. Of course, the girl had gotten a standing ovation. Jo rose along with them, nerves still humming as she clapped.

\---

That voice haunted her mind.

_Are you listening?_

_Are you listening?_

Jo wanted to carry that memory of her song into her grave. She was certain she'd never see Elicia again. Besides, what would she want to do with someone like Jo? Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach at the realization she could never have her. The only person, the only thing, she truly wanted more than anything. A large hand clapped her shoulder. She startled and turned to see Dean beaming at her.

"That was friggin' awesome, man. Those performers were awesome, that last girl especially! Alicia or something?" He snapped his fingers and squinted as he tried to remember. 

"Monroe," Jo told him, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks at the mention of her name.

"Yeah, that chick. God, she was incredible!"

Jo nodded.

"Pretty hot, too, if you ask me!"

She scowled up at him.

"Don't you have a boyfriend? One you've been dating since high school?" Dean at least had the decency to look ashamed. Cas jogged up to them, cheeks ruddy, trying to catch his breath. Dean smiled and turned to kiss his boyfriend’s mouth.

"Hey, babe, where've you been?"

"I was just over there with Lisa and Meg, getting Michael Milton's autograph," he gasped out, nodding towards the far left corner of the foyer, where women were huddled around the pompous singer and swooning as he scribbled on their brochures.

Jo glanced towards the back, where the exits were.

"I'm gonna go...use the bathroom real quick. I'll meet y'all outside or something..."

\---

Jo ducked outside through the back door. The place was too crowded, making it hard to breathe. She had told her friends that she had to go use the bathroom before weaving around the moving bodies. The pounding in her heart stopped the minute the cool air hit her face. She leaned against the wall and inhaled. Elicia's song echoed in her head again. Jo could still envision her on stage, her glittery white dress catching in the spotlight. She could still taste the sweet perfume in the back of her throat. She wanted to cling to it.

The heavy door swung open, hitting her with a gust of warm and pungent air. Thin heels clicked against the concrete. The door slammed shut behind her.

"Hey," the voice said breathily.

Jo turned and saw her in all her glory.

Elicia _fucking_ Monroe.

For a moment, she couldn't breathe or speak. Up close, Jo could see how her dressed hugged every curve of her body. Her forehead was sheening from sweat and some strands of hair clung to her hairline. Her makeup started to smudge a little.

“Hey,” Jo said back, smiling tightly at her. Elicia stepped closer. "I...um...I saw you leave through the backdoor, and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Um, we were in the...bathroom, together?"

"Um..yeah," Jo gasped out, voice shaky. She cleared her throat and said in a clearer voice, "Yeah, I remember that. Um...sorry, by the way. I hope I didn't drool on your gown."

Elicia shrugged.

"It's fine. I hate this thing anyway. It's pretty itchy." Jo snorted out a chuckle. Elicia giggled. They didn't know exactly why they both couldn’t stop laughing. Jo’s sides started to hurt and she was hugging her middle. Elicia’s face started to go red, and her eyes teared up. It was the most she’d laughed in months, and it was all because of this mysterious woman.

Her guardian angel.

"How'd you even know it was me?" Jo asked as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Elicia bit her lip.

"Well, it's pretty hard to forget a face like yours." Jo's cheeks started to heat up again and her heart raced in her chest.

"W-what does that mean?" She cringed the instant the words left her mouth.

"Oh..sorry," the poor girl sounded nervous, twirling her hair and staring at her feet. "I didn't..you know, I thought...you were...gay..."

"No, I don't mean it like that!" Jo cut her off. "I mean, I...I am attracted to you. Really."

And the award for best smooth-talker goes to Joanna Beth Harvelle.

The brunette's eyes widened, seemingly caught off guard by Jo's "flirting." She turned away and breathed a laugh.

"Oh! Well, um...I guess, I'm—I mean, I don't guess—I _am_ attracted to you, too."

Jo smiled and leaned into her space.

"Oh, okay...great.” She ducked her head and turned away, biting back another smile. The girl chuckled awkwardly.

"Yeah. Great." They giggled.

"So, um," Jo cleared her throat, "you were great out there. Amazing, actually."

Elicia nodded.

"Oh, well, thank you."

"How long have you been singing for?"

"I've been singing since I was thirteen. I was trained in opera, and I started performing in front of crowds just recently. I have stage fright, so..."

Jo nodded. "Of course."

"What about you?"

Jo shrugged. "What about me?"

"Like, what do you do and all?"

Jo pressed her lips together. "I go to NYU. I work as a bartender at my mom’s bar and as a tutor and babysitter to pay off my tuition and stuff. I'm majoring in Criminal Law. Tryna work in law enforcement."

"Like NCIS, CSI stuff?"

Jo chuckled and nodded. "Yeah." She looked down and fiddled with the large diamond on her finger. Her expression sobered as she bit her lip. "When I was little, my dad was an FBI officer. He was killed on duty when I was thirteen."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Jo nodded. She never knew how to respond to that. ‘I'm sorry for your loss...my condolences…’ Do you say "thank you" or "I know" or something? Is there a manual for this kind of thing? Even though its been six years since, it still stung to talk about it.

She huffed a breath and pushed on. "Anyway, when we went to the funeral, his colleagues and superiors spoke highly of him. Went on about all the good he did. The people he saved. They even talked about how he saved their lives. And, I thought to myself, I wanna do something like that. Save people, like he did."

She didn’t look Elicia in the eye, afraid to see any pity. It’s bad enough the poor woman had to see her panic attack and now she has to know about all her baggage.

"That's incredible, that you wanna do that. I don't know if many people can be brave enough to do something like that." Jo chuckled and nodded as she crouched and leaned against the wall.

"Yeah. My mom doesn't want me to join the FBI though or anything. We fought about it quite a few times." Elicia hummed considerately and lowered herself next to Jo.

"My mom and I are kind of at odds, too. Not for the same reasons, obviously. She wants me to be a lawyer like her instead of being a musician like my dad was. He left us when my sister and I were ten. I've thought about being a musician like him, but I didn't wanna...I didn't wanna be a deadbeat like him." Jo stared at her lap.

The two got lost in a conversation about their pasts. They exchanged silly and embarrassing stories and laughed at themselves and each other. They talked about their favorite music—Jo loved country music, classic rock and some pop music; Elicia loved a little bit of everything, but the music she wrote was often inspired by Dion, of course, and Annie Lennox. She also loved Broadway music and jazz. They didn’t know how long they sat there, talking, until Jo’s phone buzzed in her purse. She unclasped it and glanced at it only to see a text from Charlie. 

Two hours had passed.

“Oh, shit! I gotta go.” She scrambled to her feet, smoothing out her dress.

“Oh. Well, it’s been really good to meet you.,” Elicia told her as Jo shoved her phone back into the purse.

“Yeah, you, too.”

They stood there, eyes boring to one another’s, before Jo finally snapped out of her reverie and drew in a breath before walking towards the door. She jumped as she felt a hand clasp her wrist. She was spun around and next thing she knew, Elicia’s lips were on hers. They were supple against her lips and she could almost taste the bitter lipstick. Jo began to work her lips against Elicia’s, eyes slipping closed. She relished in the glide of muscle. At first the kiss was sloppy and off-rhythm in a way that reminded Jo of her first kiss with Dean back when they were dating. Except with Elicia, it felt real. It roused something dormant buried deep inside of her, something sublime. Gradually, they established their own rhythm, their own language, and fell into sync. It was like they've known each other for years.

Or for many lifetimes

Jo pulled Elicia closer by the straps of her dress to deepen the kiss. Long fingers traveled up her arms to the back of her neck and tangled in her hair. For a second, they weren’t singer and patron, rich and poor; they were Elicia and Jo, two halves that had drifted apart only to come back together, their edges fitting into one another's.

When their lips finally parted, they touched their foreheads into one another, hands tangled in hair and fabric, gasping for breath. Jo looked up at Elicia through her lashes and sunk into those earth-brown eyes. She wanted to memorize them, ingrained them into the back of her eyelids and watch them float in her mind as she drifted into sleep, She wanted to be haunted by her lips and her touch every second of every day. Elicia tilted Jo’s chin and brushed their lips together again.

And again.

and again,

and again.

As they drew back, Elicia playfully nipped and tugged at Jo’s bottom lip with her tongue. Her eyes fluttered open again. Jo licked her lips to gather the faint taste of those lips onto her tongue.

“When can I see you again?” Elicia muttered against Jo’s lips. Jo pulled her lower lip between her teeth and nibbled as she thought.

“I don’t know,” Jo whispered breathlessly. “When I can?” Elicia huffed a laugh. Jo faintly smiled again before kissing the bow of Elicia’s mouth. Jo’s phone buzzed. She took a half step back and pulled the device back out.

Another text from Dean.

“I really need to go.”

Elicia nodded and bit her lip, dropping her hands to her side. “Of course,” she said hoarsely. Jo tucked her phone away and took in Elicia’s appearance. Her dress straps were bunched up, and her lipstick was messed up, staining the corners of her lips. Jo was pretty sure her own makeup was smudged and her hair was disheveled. As her hand hovered over the handle, she heard Elicia ask,"“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Jo beamed at her.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song is called "The Great Divide" by Emmy Rossum, written in 2007.


End file.
